


Wild Roses

by barbex



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Penis In Vagina Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Wall Sex, wallsex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:35:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29726331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barbex/pseuds/barbex
Summary: When the Prince of Starkhaven holds a ball, he and his wife are expected to dance and mingle. Hawke has a better idea though and it involves a balcony in the dark and wild roses.
Relationships: Female Hawke/Sebastian Vael
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8
Collections: Nobody Expects the Dragon Age Smutquisition





	Wild Roses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LauraEMoriarty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LauraEMoriarty/gifts).



* * *

Orla Hawke takes her shoes off with a sigh. She’s been on her feet for hours, dancing with men and women that followed the invitation of the Prince of Starkhaven and his wife for the Summerday Ball. Even if her feet hurt now, she vastly preferred dancing to having to hold delightful conversations with people who never had to tie their own shoes in their lives. 

The music still drifts to her hiding place in the hallway's darkness, light spilling out from the open door. She follows the beam of light to a set of glass doors and opens them to a small balcony. This section of the palace is still closed off, the rooms not renovated yet and the balcony overgrown with flowering vines. 

Hawke takes a deep long breath, the frosty night air and the scent of wild roses smelling better than any of the orlesian perfumes she had to breathe in all night. She steps carefully out on the balcony and tests the railing for stability. When nothing crumbles, she leans on it and lets the cold air calm her mind. 

“I was about to have the guards search for you, my dearest.”

Hawke startles when she hears Sebastian’s voice behind her. The music has changed, and she has no idea how long she’s been standing out here. “Sorry, I lost track of time.”

Sebastian steps closer, the moonlight making his eyes shine icy blue. “I’ve had several inquiries about you and your whereabouts from Marquis DeVishé.”

Hawke sighs. “That slimy bastard.”

“Madame DeVishé was even more insistent.” Sebastian chuckles as he comes closer, joining Hawke at the railing. 

“She’s just as slimy as her husband,” Hawke says and sighs. “I’m sorry, I know I’m supposed to play nice, but they’re all trying my patience. They whine and complain and they all smell like farts in a flowerbed and they — “

Sebastian interrupts her with a kiss. His lips linger on hers and after overcoming her surprise, she leans into the kiss and wraps her arms around his neck. She kisses him back, tongues gliding against each other and letting him dip her backwards as they take in each other’s breath. 

Heat spreads inside of her, a desperate longing that focuses between her legs, wet and throbbing. She cants her hips and grinds against him, pleased to feel his hardness through the layers of clothes. 

“Orla,” Sebastian says in warning, a growl in his undertone. 

“Yes, darling?” 

“You know.”

“Do I now?” She lets go of him and takes a few steps to the side, where the wall is not covered with roses. She sways her hips and lets her skirt swing out. “Here’s something you don’t know.” She turns to him, placing her hands in front of her, right at the apex of her thighs. “This skirt has layers, and if you know where they overlap, you can easily...” She slides her hands under the fabric and pushes it aside, revealing the opening in her skirts. Sebastian’s gaze falls down to her legs and his eyes widen. She only wears a garter belt and stockings, the soft curls between her legs uncovered.

Sebastian takes a sharp breath. “This whole evening, as you danced with everyone, you didn’t wear any smalls?”

Hawke fakes an innocent smile. “No? Should I have?”

Sebastian’s startling blue eyes narrow, his soft demeanor replaced with something wilder. He stalks towards her like a predator on the hunt. Hawke takes a step back until her back hits the wall and holds his gaze as he sets his hand next to her head, leaning into her. “You wicked witch.”

She lays her head to the side, inviting him to kiss her neck. He hesitates, but he can’t resist. Leaning into her, he places a trail of kisses on her neck, his body pressing against hers. When his other hand strokes up her side, she takes it and guides it between her legs, pressing his fingertips against her wet folds.

“Maker, Orla, you can’t — “

“All night I had to watch you dance with others, smile at others,” Orla whispers in his ear as she grinds her quim against his fingers. “I had to watch your ass in these wonderful trousers and I couldn’t even touch you.” It’s not even a show she’s putting on for him. She had been watching him, yearning, throbbing for him all evening. She’s so pent up with desire, she’s already close to coming just from feeling his fingers on her clit. 

“And you were naked under your skirts...” Sebastian stares at her, his fingers still moving between her legs. 

“And whenever I watched you, I was dripping down my thighs.” That wasn’t entirely true, but Sebastian’s blush and the naked hunger in his eyes is a nice reward for that little exaggeration.

“Orla, please, have mercy.”

Hawke thrusts her hips forward, fucking herself on his fingers. “No, I want you, right now. Don’t you want me too?” 

Sebastian stills, and then his hands fly to the laces of his trousers. His erection springs free, he grabs her right leg and holds it up to his waist and sheathes himself into her in one stroke. “How can you even question that,” he groans into her neck. 

Hawke can’t answer him; she can only moan as he thrusts into her with quick, short strokes, rubbing against her clit with every push. Her orgasm crashes over her, so fast that she can’t even stop herself from moaning out loud. 

Sebastian doesn’t stop, thrusting fast and steady, kissing her to quiet her moans. Her arousal rises again like a wave, taking her along in burning desire. “More, faster,” she cries out, losing herself in the sensations. 

Sebastian slides his hand behind her neck, holding her as he presses his forehead against hers, his hips snapping forward and when the wave crashes in her again, her vagina pulsing around him, he groans and comes, thrusting into her with one last push.

They stay like that for several minutes, breathing hard. At last, Sebastian takes the handkerchief out of his breast pocket and holds it under her as he pulls out, catching his seed dripping from her. He cleans her thoroughly and then lets the handkerchief drop from his hand. 

“I could fold that again for your pocket,” Orla says with a grin.

“With that smell?”

“Every orlesian would flutter around you to ask what stimulating perfume you wear.”

Sebastian shakes his head and pulls Hawke’s skirts back down and then rights his own clothing. “I’d rather avoid fluttering orlesians, I must say.”

Hawke pushes herself away from the wall and checks her dress, arranging the ruffles and layers so that she looks presentable again. 

Sebastian offers her his arm and leads her back to the light spilling through the gap at the door. He lets her step through first but stops her with a touch on her shoulder. “Oh, wait.” He brushes over her head and then comes up to her side, showing her the rose petal he picked out of her hair.

Orla takes it and slides it between her breasts, just under the plunging neckline of her dress. She looks at Sebastian and smiles. “Do we have to stay here much longer?”

Sebastian presses a kiss on her cheek. “Not for much longer. We’ll take a turn around the hall, exchange some friendly words, and then I intend to take my wife upstairs and make love to her on our bed, like she deserves.”

Orla beams up to him. “I like that plan.”

  
  



End file.
